


Always on my mind

by BecauseImClassy



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, improper use of braille
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 05:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseImClassy/pseuds/BecauseImClassy
Summary: For a tumblr prompt, "Person A can’t stop thinking about Person B and keeps tracing their name everywhere when they’re nervous. B only finds out about this when they wake up to A absentmindedly tracing B’s name on B’s back."Original can be foundhere.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song, which has been recorded by such varied artists as Elvis Presley, Willie Nelson, Pet Shop Boys, Julio Iglesias, and Michael Buble. I like the Pet Shop Boys version, myself.

Matt thought about Karen often. The lonely office where he practiced law inevitably reminded him of her, and of Foggy, and at first those memories had been painful, a constant reproach to himself for having driven both of them away.

But things were getting better. He and Foggy still weren’t close, but they were at least speaking to each other again. And he and Karen were dating again, all the secrets and lies between them forgiven and left in the past. He could think about her now with hope and love outweighing the guilt, and the reminders of her that were attached to everything in his life had become a comfort, rather than a burden.

He thought about her as he sat in his office, waiting for a possible new client who was coming in to meet with him, and wished she were there to talk to. He felt a familiar prickle of nerves, and his hands fidgeted on his desk top. There was always a hint of nervousness when meeting a client for the first time—not fear of failure, but rather the anticipation of taking on a new challenge. He ran his fingers restlessly over the objects in front of him, books and folders and laptop, then fell to running a fingertip aimlessly over the surface of the desk.

If the meeting went well, he looked forward to telling Karen he had a new client. She knew how difficult it was for him to build a practice on his own, relying on word-of-mouth, the people he had helped referring others. She sympathized with his troubles, and cheered his successes, and good news became even better when he could share it with her.

His hand on the desk top had fallen into a pattern, repeating the same movements over and over, and with a start he realized he was tracing the letters of her name with his finger. He smiled, and did it again, forming each letter firmly and deliberately. _K A R E N._

* * *

He thought about her as he sat alone at a table in Josie’s bar. He and Foggy were meeting for drinks, just the two of them, for the first time since their rupture, and Karen was nearly as excited about it as Matt was. She had insisted he call her later and tell her how it went. He had arrived early, and now waited nervously, one leg jigging up and down under the table until he put a hand on his knee and made himself stop. Immediately, his fingers began twitching on his leg instead, rubbing over his knee in agitation.

He was trying not to expect too much from tonight, but he couldn’t help hoping. Foggy agreeing to meet him felt like the opening of a door, a willingness to close the distance between them at least a little. It was reassuring to know that Karen was hoping, too, and that whatever happened he could tell her all about it. She had remained friends with Foggy throughout their troubles, and Matt knew how hard it was for her, caring about both of them while they were at odds with each other.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, only then becoming aware that his hand under the table was tracing letters on his knee, spelling out Karen’s name again and again. He laughed, and suddenly felt calmer, almost as if he heard her voice in his ear, telling him it was going to be fine.

* * *

He thought about her when he patrolled the streets at night. Her constant presence in the back of his mind was a motivation, not a distraction—a reminder of all the good people there were in the city, the ones he was protecting. What he had told Ben Urich all those months ago was still true: people like her were why he did this.

Daredevil’s hands were never idle, and so he never traced her name anywhere. But he carried it in his heart, a talisman against the violence he immersed himself in, against the devil inside.

* * *

He thought about her at home, eating his breakfast while he listened to a local news broadcast. Now that Karen was working as a journalist, Matt had an additional interest in the news, wondering what stories she would cover for the Bulletin.

Broadcast media had the advantage of speed over print media, and the internet was faster then both, so it was rare for the Bulletin to run a story that hadn’t already been covered elsewhere. But Karen’s pieces had more depth than most. She excelled at digging into the background of a story, fitting events into a larger context and sometimes finding connections that others overlooked.

Matt brushed his hand over the table top, in search of the sesame seeds that had fallen from his bagel as he ate. He gathered the seeds together into a small pile, then fiddled with them absently while he listened.

By the time he had to leave for work, the seeds were arranged before him in a neat pattern of dots, spelling out Karen’s name in a line of braille. He ran his fingers lightly over the letters, his touch so delicate he could read them without disarranging them, and smiled.

* * *

He thought about her when he woke beside her, yawning and rubbing his hands over his face. He heard the rhythms of her body shift from sleep to wakefulness, and then she rolled over to face him, her body brushing against him as she arched her back into a long stretch. They were both naked, and a lazy current of desire flowed through him as he felt her skin warm against his. He slipped his arms around her waist, and she draped an arm around his shoulders and snuggled in close.

“Hi,” he said softly, kissing her forehead.

“Hi,” she answered sleepily, tucking her face into his neck.

He ran one hand up and down her back, stroking gently, and she made a contented sound. He loved to touch her, loved the feel of her skin, and it was one of the best feelings in the world to lie naked together, holding each other. They were both soft and relaxed with sleep, their legs tangled together, skin pressed against skin from head to toe.

He felt the strong line of her spine under his fingers, and followed it all the way up, stroking the back of her neck and running his fingers into her hair. She murmured inarticulately, drifting near the line between sleeping and waking.

He ran his hand back down her back, over the planes of her shoulder blades, tracing over her skin with his fingers. He could hear the sounds of his neighbors getting up and going about their mornings, and luxuriated in the fact that it was Saturday, and he and Karen didn’t have to get up until they wanted to.

He focused his attention on her, smelling the citrus scent of her hair, and beneath that the faint muskiness of their bodies, the smell of last night’s sex lingering on the bedsheets. He felt her breath on his neck, and the slow rise and fall of her stomach against his. He let his mind drift, listening to the combined rhythm of their heartbeats. His fingers continued to move idly over her back, her skin smooth and warm.

They lay for a while, half-asleep, until Karen roused, taking a deeper breath, her heart beating a little faster as she came fully awake.

“Matt?” she asked.

“Hmmmm?” he responded sleepily.

“Are you…writing my name on my back?”

He froze, suddenly awake. “Um. Maybe?” he said, a little sheepishly.

“It’s all right,” she said, smiling against his neck. “You don’t have to stop, I don’t mind it. I just wondered if it really was what it felt like.”

He smiled too, and rubbed his cheek in her hair. “I didn’t realize I was doing it. But it’s not the first time. The last few weeks, I’ve caught myself tracing your name on things…” he cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed. “…kind of a lot. It started as a nervous fidget, but now it seems to happen any time I’m thinking about you.”

“Which is kind of a lot?” Her voice sounded amused, and fond. She pulled back far enough to see his face, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Well, I think about you a lot, too. I haven’t started doodling your name in my note pad, though.” She dropped her hand to his shoulder, and he smiled again when he felt a fingertip spell out _M A T T_ against his skin.

“Just the other day,” he admitted, “I was eating a bagel, and some of the sesame seeds fell off, and I used them to write your name in braille on the table top.”

“Really?” She chuckled. “I honestly don’t know if I want to laugh, or say awwwww, because that’s so sweet.”

He shrugged and grinned, feeling his cheeks turning pink.

Her finger moved over his skin again, writing _L O V E_ below his collarbone. His smile grew softer, and he wrote the same word back, tracing the letters low on her back, across her hips.

She reached back up to cup his cheek, and kissed him, shifting in his arms to press herself against him more closely, wrapping her arms around his neck. He returned the kiss, feeling a glow of warmth as his body responded to the touch of her lips, the smooth slide of her skin. He ran his hands unhurriedly over her soft curves, hearing her small sound of pleasure, hearing her heart rate increase.

She continued writing on his skin as they kissed, her messages becoming more and more suggestive as their kisses grew deeper and more heated. He responded in kind, spelling out his own messages, kissing her as well as he could with both of them breaking into smiles.

Than he had an idea, and rolled them over so she was lying on her back, with him on top of her.

“I could teach you how to write your name in braille, if you want.” He let mischief color his tone, and brushed one hand lightly over her face to read her expression.

She raised her eyebrows. “What, right now? Okay, sure. Go ahead.”

He slid down in the bed until his head was level with her chest. He propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand tracing a rectangle between her breasts. “Each braille letter is a cell,” he explained, “with six possible places for a dot.” He pressed the tip of his finger on her skin, marking out three rows of two.

“So,” he continued, bending over her right breast. “The letter _K_ is two dots, one at the top, one at the bottom.” He kissed her breast twice, once above the nipple and once below. Her breath caught, and he felt a silent quiver of laughter run through her as she realized his intent.

“ _A_ is just one dot.” he moved over slightly and pressed a single kiss to her chest, letting his lips linger, the tip of his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. She quivered again, not from laughter this time.

“ _R_ ,” he murmured, dropping four kisses in the center of her chest, feeling her heart flutter under his lips, feeling her skin flush warmly.

“ _E_ ,” was another two kisses, one diagonally below the other. He took his time, running his hand over her hip and down her thigh, stroking the soft skin behind her knee, and she breathed out a sigh that was nearly a moan.

“ _N_ ,” he whispered, slowly placing four kisses on her left breast, carefully spaced so the final dot was her nipple, pressing his lips around it and sucking softly. She gasped and arched up toward him as his tongue flicked out again to tease the sensitive peak, her hands finding his shoulders and gripping tightly. She laughed breathlessly, and he grinned up at her before returning his attention to her breasts.

They stayed in bed half the morning, exchanging messages of desire and love and happiness, written on each other’s skin in touches and kisses, messages that weren’t in words and needed no letters to spell them out. And Karen’s name became a breath of air between them, a warm sigh in her ear, a cry of release in the quiet morning as their bodies merged and joined together.

And after, as they cuddled together quietly, limp and content, he thought about her, and felt like the luckiest man in the whole city.


End file.
